


a few points for trying

by unearth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (TV)
Genre: 1x01, Gen, Loneliness, Nightmares, Texting, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 21:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30145644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unearth/pseuds/unearth
Summary: Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way his heart hammers painfully against his ribcage after a nightmare.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Sam Wilson
Comments: 31
Kudos: 208





	a few points for trying

**Author's Note:**

> yes i wrote something else. yes i need to be calmed down

Bucky doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the way his heart hammers painfully against his ribcage after a nightmare.

He’s been breathing in, and out, in, and out, for at least a minute or two, the same kind of pattern he taught Steve in the ‘30s when his asthma got the best of him and left him wheezing and gasping for the slightest bit of air.

The thought makes everything a little bit worse. Sometimes, when he wakes up, he forgets.

His chest hurts, suddenly, and he feels a little silly when he presses his hand to his chest, above his dog tags, just to make sure his heart’s still ticking away.

A muted rerun of a soccer game brightens up the living space, and he sighs. Adjusts his body a little to get comfier in his seated position, even though at this angle, the floor digs harshly into the back of his thigh.

Shivering, he curses quietly to himself. This stupid ratty little blanket isn’t doing its job, pooled pathetically around his middle. Spread out way too thin.

 _I’m no longer The Winter Soldier_ , he thinks. _My name is James Bucky Barnes._

“You’re okay,” he says, low. In the quiet of the room, it barely makes a sound.

His therapist had helped him come up with that, something to say when he was out making his amends and trying not to scare the ever-loving shit out of people. Turns out, if he walks towards someone that he used to know, they scream. They shout and sometimes even point a gun at him and it takes them a while to calm down, so.

_I’m no longer The Winter Soldier. My name is James Bucky Barnes._

That seemed to work. He didn’t talk, back then, not on the job, so once he starts murmuring boring old sentences, they seem to get pulled back to reality.

He doesn’t know why, but he reaches out for his phone.

 _0 Text Messages,_ the screen taunts. _0 Missed Calls._

_You’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam. You’re alone. You’re a hundred years old. You have no history, no family._

Bucky swallows audibly.

Quickly, before he can change his mind, he taps a few buttons until he’s looking at Sam’s text thread.

He really _is_ trying.

 _Helloooooooo I know your ass is getting these messages,_ is the last text Sam sent. A few days ago.

He’s trying, okay, but it’s not like phones were created with him in mind. It takes him a long time to type out the words and then to delete them to fix his terrible spelling, and why do people _text_ when they could just _call_?

 _Hey,_ is what he sends.

He moves to put his phone on the floor beside him again, but it buzzes in his hand.

 _You’re up at 3 in the morning_.

He wants to type back, _no shit_ , but stares at the screen until his eyes get a little crossed. Sam doesn’t sound judgmental or anything, and of course Bucky could be wrong because he isn’t quite good at deciphering tone through a text message, yet. But he doesn’t seem to be scolding him for having a late night, and Bucky’s—

He’s trying.

He’s lonely.

 _So are you_.

As soon as he sends it, he pushes the back space button to get into his inbox again. There aren’t many text threads, he _does_ only have ten people in his stupid phone, so Steve’s is right near the top.

The last text message between them is stupid, Bucky thinks, bitterly. Steve, on his way to Wakanda, way back when. _I’ll see you soon, Buck._ It’s stupid because it makes his heart hurt in a way he doesn’t want to think about, and it’s stupid because Bucky already knew he was coming, T’Challa had told him, and it’s stupid because it’s not true. It was, when he sent it, but it’s not true now.

Sam texts back before Bucky can do something stupid like cry in front of a too big TV that paints his walls in light green streaks.

_Are you okay? I’m at my sister’s, but I can be there. If you need me to be._

Bucky breathes in slowly through his nose and ignores the way warm tears prick at his eyes.

 _It’s okay. Just had a weird dream_ , he says, because maybe he lied to his therapist, but he’s _trying_.

He doesn’t bother putting his phone down. Sam’s response comes quick enough.

_It’s your bed right?_

_What do you mean_ , he replies. He sucks on his bottom lip in thought before sending another text. His therapist said something about honesty and nurturing friendships, and, well, Bucky doesn’t think sending boring replies counts as _nurturing,_ so _._ _I didn’t get myself a bed. I just sleep on the floor._

_Yeah. When I got back, lying on my bed was tough. It felt like a marshmallow. I was used to having a caveman bed. I think it made my dreams worse, for some reason._

Bucky chuckles. _Caveman bed??_

_I slept on the ground and used rocks for pillows. Like a caveman. Caveman bed._

He lies back down on the floor, dog tags clinking together noisily on his chest. The floor is cold against his bare back.

His heart’s calm now, but he still feels so tight and tense. When he blinks, his dream is splayed out on the back of his eyelids. He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it up to Yori.

Bucky doesn’t get the chance to reply, because his phone is lighting up again, a stark contrast to the dimming screen only a second ago.

_You know, I had this same talk with Steve when we first met._

Jesus Christ. He’s going to walk into his therapist’s office next week and lose his mind about this. He wants to get better, and to stop keeping himself alone in his apartment, and to right his wrongs, but doesn’t want to talk about Steve. It’s still fresh. He thinks that, maybe, it always will be. A sore subject that everyone avoids around him entirely.

_He’s the one who said it felt like a marshmallow._

God, Bucky’s chest aches. _Sounds like him_ , he sends off.

_Are you okay, though?_

Bucky sighs. He doesn’t know the answer to it. Physically, he’s okay now. His chest is calm and his hands aren’t shaking anymore, and he’s not so dizzy. Everything else? Who the fuck knows. Surely, not him.

 _Making amends is tough,_ he types. _And therapy is hard._

Sam takes a second to reply. _And you miss Steve. I do, too._

Bucky doesn’t know how to respond to that. So he just stares at the message until another one buzzes in.

_I get that you aren’t ready to talk about it, but I’m here, man. Anytime._

Jesus. Bucky feels all of his hundred years when he sighs, deep and way too loud in the dead quiet of his place.

He’s getting ready to respond with a simple _okay_ when his phone starts buzzing and won’t stop.

 _A call_?

Yeah, maybe Bucky was complaining about texts being the preferred way of contact, but he doesn’t want Sam to hear the cold, raspy sadness in his voice. Doesn’t want him to have to leave his sister and check on his sorry ass.

He’ll be okay.

 _Eventually_ , but still.

He clears his throat, though, and answers it. “Yeah?”

“There he is,” Sam says, voice tinny and muffled. “I just wanted to say goodnight. Don’t know when the last time you had actual human interaction was.”

“Today, thank you very much.”

“I don’t count. Your therapist doesn’t count, either.”

“Jesus. Fine. I don’t know who died and put you in charge of the rules of human interaction. You and her count just fine.”

Sam laughs, and ignores the hell out of him. “Goodnight, Barnes. Get a life. Have some sweet dreams and stop ignoring my goddamn texts.”

Bucky makes a noise, a cross between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, okay. Okay.”

“Yeah, _okay_ ,” Sam says, pointedly. “Bye.”

He does put his phone out of reach this time, and closes his eyes.

He’s trying.

He’ll be okay.

Because his name is James Bucky Barnes, and he’s no longer The Winter Soldier.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/markofalover)


End file.
